A Thousand Words for Love and Heartbreak
by SunnyStorms
Summary: They may love or they may hate each other, but they will never be indifferent to one another. A compilation of one-shots.
1. Chapter 1: Late

**A/N:** This is a collection of unrelated one-shots written for the "Your Favorite Couple: Scenarios Speed Writing Challenge" on the HPFC forum. Happy reading!**  
**

The full version of the first story is now posted as a separate one-shot: **What Time Knows Not.** That version contains my original ending for this piece while this version here was truncated and altered to fit within the 2000 word limit of the challenge.

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**1. Late**

One minute she was standing next to her dad, nervous in her high heels and white satin gown but ready to head down the aisle into the next chapter of her life—the next minute, everything went black.

A sudden pressure squeezed at her from all sides. Ginny failed to place the sensation until her feet hit solid ground. She fought back the nausea of Apparition as panic swept through her. Seconds ago she had been bathed in sunlight streaming through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows of the Ministry's ballroom, but now blue-black shadows engulfed her in a musty space that smelled of damp and mildew. She became aware then of the hand tightly gripping her elbow and wrenched herself free as she fought frantically through too many blasted layers of tulle and lace to get at her wand.

"_Accio_ Ginny's wand," calmly spoke a voice close by. She stiffened in shock, too stunned to even think of grasping her wand as it flew through the air. She knew that drawling voice, knew it as well as her own.

The recognition took a sledge hammer to her thoughts and emotions, to memories she'd buried with a vengeance to the depths of her heart. As if a floodgate had been opened, they tumbled over one another in a rush to the forefront of her mind, leaving her gasping with the force of their return.

"What the—I don't even—" Her thoughts were as incoherent as her attempts to speak them. She clenched her eyes shut, breathing deeply as she willed herself to calm down, but it didn't work. The confusing flurry of emotions continued to rock her, so she seized upon the familiar and reliable anger to pull her through.

"Draco. Bleeding. Malfoy," she bit out through gritted teeth. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

A wall sconce flared to life near her head, the red-gold flames casting a flickering light over the moss-covered stone walls and rusted metal bars. A dungeon cell. He'd brought her to a frigging dungeon. Bloody unbelievable. The nerve of him to walk out on her without a word, without a single owl in these last five years, and to now have...

She watched as he stalked around the perimeter of the sizable cell, steadfastly avoiding her eyes as he flung spells of concealment, one after another. Most other witches would have been trembling in fear to find themselves abducted on their wedding day, but not Ginny. Not with this man. Not after everything that had happened between them years ago.

Already she could feel them, the painful cracks branching through her heart. She seethed, anger burning her white-hot. How _dare_ he?

He had her wand, but she didn't need it to dish out the punishment he deserved. She flipped her veil back and waited until he had his back fully turned to her before she rushed up and whipped him around with a forceful pull on his shoulder. He only had time to widen those deceptive eyes of his before she decked him across his cheek with the knuckles of her hand. Having grown up with six older brothers, she knew how to throw a punch, and Merlin knows the skinny bastard before her didn't know how to take one.

He stumbled back and swore as he clutched at his face, dropping her wand in the process. She yanked his wand from his other hand before pouncing to snatch her own from the floor. His she threw forcefully over her shoulder while hers she jabbed hard at his chest. Her other hand gripped his shoulder, pinning him against the cell's metal bars.

"Explanation _now_ or there won't be anything of you left to explain," she hissed.

He blinked at her, still dazed from her blow. She took the time to examine him, taking in his wrinkled, half-buttoned shirt; the mussed platinum blond hair; the bruise beginning to bloom on his cheek. In short, he was a mess, unnervingly so after the years she'd known him to be nothing but impeccable at all hours of the day. Up close, she noticed something else as well. Her nose crinkled from the smell of it. He reeked of alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" she asked incredulously.

He shook his head. Whether it was to clear his head or answer her question, she didn't know. He started to move, so she dug her wand in harder, eliciting a wince from him.

"Start talking, Malfoy."

"So it's Malfoy now? What happened to Draco or 'Dray' when you couldn't—"

"You lost that privilege long ago, _Malfoy_," she spat.

"A privilege was it, _Ginny_?" The daze was gone from his eyes. They hardened into the all too familiar steely slabs from their fights in the past.

No. He had no right to turn this on her.

"I'm not here to play around with you. You better have a bloody good reason to give me in the next three seconds, or I'm out of here. Have fun dealing with the Aurors."

"You should be grateful I'm saving you from that marital trap you were about to fall into," he muttered.

He might as well have shot a Stunner at her. Ginny opened her mouth but found herself speechless. She snapped it shut before gathering her rage to try again."What were you thinking, Malfoy? That you could just show up out of the blue and whisk me away without any consequences? That I would still _want_ to come with you?"

_Do you? _asked that terrible voice in her head, the one she thought she'd snuffed out for good years ago.

"That's just it. I wasn't thinking at all," he blurted out and visibly cringed from his admission, shutting his eyes as he swore.

She stared as he brought up a hand, the one whose shoulder she didn't have pinned, and ran it through his hair—a frustrated, distracted gesture. Malfoys didn't _have_ frustrated, distracted gestures.

"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" she asked in disbelief. He had to be an imposter. Taking everything into account, there was no way the real Draco Malfoy would have shown up before her like this—disheveled and, dare she say it, seemingly almost desperate.

He gave her a little sad smile then—not a grin or a smirk but a hesitant tilt upwards at the corners of his lips. Her traitorous heart quivered dangerously. He opened his eyes then, the steel gone from them, replaced by a depth that spoke volumes.

"I've missed you, Gin," he whispered hoarsely, "badly."

The frank admission was her undoing. The heat of her anger dissipated leaving her cold and hurting. Her throat constricted and the back of her eyes began burning with other emotions altogether.

_No._ She closed her eyes to those blasted grey orbs that spoke too much but belonged to a man who left too many things unsaid. She closed her ears to the silver tongue that could extract the world from her but could not tell her what she needed to hear. Lastly, she closed her heart, hardened it to stone. She wouldn't let him do this to her, not again.

Releasing his shoulder, she stepped back.

"No." He gripped her hand, keeping the wand pressed into his chest. "No," he repeated.

She exhaled and opened her eyes, keeping them trained on the point where her wand ended and he began. "Let me go, Malfoy," she said quietly. "It's over. We were done the moment you decided to walk away that morning, after I was prepared to give you everything. I've made my peace with your decision. Now you need to do the same with mine." Finally, she found the strength to look up at him.

Draco had never appeared so open to her, allowing his every emotion to show in his features. He shook his head. "I can't. I can't do it." The voice that had been cold and cutting, charming and suave, smug and assured in all the years she'd known him seemed ready to fall apart.

She knew the depth of her feelings then. It was hard to lie to herself when even after he'd broken her heart, smashed it to smithereens, still here she was, digging her nails into her palms to fight the urge to comfort him. How maddeningly fitting, considering how they'd gotten together in the first place—two broken people, who collided with a push from fickle Fate, left to pick up the scattered pieces of themselves and accidentally found their missing parts in the other. Or so she had believed.

_Damn it, Draco._ It had always been this way. There was never any peace with him in her life. She shut her eyes again at the memories that flooded her.

Words began tumbling out of him as if he couldn't speak fast enough. "I can't let you go. I won't let you go. You can't marry him." He worded them as commands, but even in their most intimate moments, she'd never heard a more sincere plea in his voice, sincere and desperate.

Crack went her heart. Crack went the walls she'd built. Damn him.

She snapped her eyes open and pierced him with her gaze. "Then why did you leave me?" she demanded even as she struggled to keep her voice steady. "I chose _you_ first, and look what happened. Why should I believe you now?"

"I was out of my mind," he choked out but said nothing more.

It was the same old story. She would excuse him, and they would fall back together only to fall apart again. Except not this time. Ginny shook her head sharply. "That's not good enough. Goodbye, Draco." Without another word, she twisted her hand free from his grip, turned, and walked away for what she hoped was the last time.

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**Author Notes:**

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think of it. :) In case you missed the note above, an expanded version of this story is now posted (**What Time Knows Not**), which continues the story past where it ends here.

This was written for the following scenario: Person A is engaged to someone else. Person B tries to win them over.


	2. Chapter 2: Impasse

**2. Impasse**

He felt it the minute he stepped into the Manor. A sense of wrongness hung in the air, setting him instantly on edge.

"Ginny?" he called out as he rushed up the stairs. She was not in their bedroom or the library. He did not find her baking away in the kitchen or strolling amongst the various gardens. The house-elves had not seen her leave, but neither could they find her. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he half-ran to the North Wing, the one place forbidden to everyone but himself.

The door to his father's old study was cracked open, spilling golden light on to the corridor's marble floor. Anger should have consumed him right then at the undeniable evidence of her disobedience, of her blatant distrust of him, but it was with overwhelming fear and dread that his hand shook as it pushed the door open the rest of the way.

He found her sitting in the high-back leather chair behind the solid, black marble desk that dominated the room. Her pale knees were drawn up to her chest, her head tucked low. Her brilliant red hair fell around her in a curtain that shone with highlights of gold as it caught the flickering light from the various lit lamps.

He stood in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her in silence, unable, unwilling to speak. The papers spread before her on the desk and strewn across the floor spoke for him, damned him before he could say a word.

She finally looked up at him in a slow, agonized movement as if she was struggling against an enormous weight just to lift her head. "How could you do this?" Her wet, brown eyes pleaded with him, begged him to tell her it wasn't so.

Calm. He had to stay calm and talk her out of it.

"It's nothing to get worked up over, Ginny." He strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a generous amount of Ogden's Finest.

"_Nothing?_ You call this nothing?" He heard the rustle of parchment being furiously thrown aside. "He's a monster, Draco. He deserves to be behind bars."

He slammed the bottle down and spun on his heels. "He's my father. Watch your mouth, Ginevra."

He watched as rage and hurt blazed bright in her eyes and clenched his hands in frustration. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, but how else did she expect him to respond?

She stood up from the chair and advanced on him. "You know what he's done, and this is only going to drag you down with him!"

"I won't turn my back on my own family. You knew this when you agreed to marry me."

She closed her eyes, but the tears continued to stream freely. Panic swept through him. His Ginny was a fighter down to the last bone in her body. For her to cry so openly before him could only mean one thing, one thing he was unwilling to let happen.

In two strides flat, he closed the distance between them and crushed her to him. His lips found hers and coaxed them open. His tongue plundered and devoured. With every movement, he sought to scorch her, to consume her and make her forget about everything but him. It had worked before. It almost worked then. She half-moaned and kissed him back, one hand coming up to clutch his neck while the other delved into his hair. Heat rose in palpable waves between them, but then she tore her lips from his and spun away from him, leaving him bereft and clutching at empty air.

"Don't try to distract me," she hissed. "This isn't a problem you can just kiss away."

He tried to remain cool and collected but could not keep his frustration in check knowing she was about to throw them away for nothing but her foolish sense of moral superiority. He'd thought she'd gotten over it the moment she'd accepted him as a permanent fixture in her life, and he refused to believe he was wrong. This was a momentary relapse. Nothing more. It had to be. "It doesn't have to be a problem at all. You knew what you were getting into. I was never a man of pretense, especially not with you."

"Oh, really?" She stomped over to the desk, grabbed a fistful of the parchments, and pivoted around to throw them in his face. "Then what's all this? You _lied_ to me, Draco."

"I knew you wouldn't want to be involved, so I didn't bother to tell you about it, but search your memory, Ginny. You'll find that I have _never_, not even once, lied to you. Thanks for trusting me, by the way," he snapped back.

She stabbed a livid finger at him. "Don't you dare turn this on me. You were being deliberately deceitful, and you know it."

"If I could've been certain you would understand, I wouldn't have!"

She sunk into the settee by the fireplace, her head in her hands. When she looked back up, the tears were once again streaming freely.

"I thought I could do this, but I can't," she choked out.

He was by her side in a flash, sinking to his knees by her seat and cupping her face in his hands. "No, you don't mean it. You can. You have, and you _will_." If he sounded like he was begging, he no longer cared. He would do whatever it took to convince her.

She shook her head, sending teardrops flying. "I can't, Draco. I can't simply stand aside and watch as you manipulate people by whatever means necessary to set your father free. You _know_ what he's done. This is nothing he doesn't deserve."

He could barely get the words out with the emotions constricting his throat. "You don't understand. He's my father, Ginny. Do not ask this of me."

"But I do understand. I love you."

This he knew, and it was tearing him apart.

She was openly sobbing now and could barely speak through her tears. "I've sacrificed so much to be with you. Do not deny it. But this I cannot do, even for you. If I give this up too, then there is nothing left of me. Ginny Weasley would cease to be. Do you understand?"

And he did. In his heart he knew he was asking the impossible of her, that if she went through with it, she might just cease to be the girl he fell in love with, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell of her former self. He did not know whether that would be worse than not having her at all. The latter was a reality he could not imagine and yet was rushing at him all the same. All he could do in the present was to deny it.

His hands on her face tightened with the force of his words. "We'll find a way to make it work. Just trust me on this."

Her small hands flew up and wrapped themselves around his wrists. "Then don't do it, Draco. Am I not your family as well? Can't you pick me for once?"

She, too, was asking the impossible of him. How could he leave his father to rot in Azkaban when it was in his power to free him? How could he bear it if she left him?

His voice was strained when he spoke. "If you love me, you will not ask this of me."

She pulled his hands down from her face and raised them to her lips, kissing the center of one palm and then the other. They were wet kisses, mixed with the salt of her tears.

She stared back at him, brown eyes shining with the force of her emotions. "If you love me, you will choose me, or you will let me go."

She continued to hold on to his hands, and he continued to hold her gaze. Their ultimatums hung in the air between them, in a silence louder than words.

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**Author Notes:  
**Two rather angsty one-shots in a row, but don't blame me, blame the prompts. :P The next one should be a lot happier. ;)

This was written for Couple Scenario #2: Your couple has the worst disagreement they will ever have.


	3. Chapter 3: Memory

**3. Memory**

Ethan Jenkins had barely stepped from the fireplace into the foyer when his wife called out from the kitchen.

"You have visitors. They're waiting for you in the lounge."

He bit back a groan, having looked forward to simply plopping down in front of the telly with a cold drink after another exhausting day at work.

"Who?" he asked while dusting the soot from his robes.

"I don't know. Never seen them before. They said they met you back when you were working at that resort."

That was ages ago. Puzzled, he dropped off his briefcase in the study and made his way to the lounge. The last thing he expected was to walk into a solid wall of tension, but there it was in addition to an unfamiliar man and woman sitting on opposite ends of the settee, both with their arms crossed and determinedly not looking at each other.

This was getting stranger by the minute.

"Uh...can I help you?" he asked uncertainly.

They both turned their heads instantaneously in his direction. The blond and grey-eyed man let out an exasperated huff while tapping a finger impatiently against the arm of the settee. "Finally, took you long enough."

Before Ethan could decide how to react, the woman with brilliant red hair admonished the man with a sharp, "_Draco_," which Ethan guessed was the man's name, before she turned back towards him with kind brown eyes. "Don't mind Draco. He's been in a bit of a strop all morning—"

"_Excuse me_? I wasn't the one who—"

She ignored her companion's indignant exclamation and talked right over him. "We were wondering if you could help us with something."

Now that he'd taken a closer look at her, there was something quite familiar about the woman. All the more curious, Ethan settled into the seat across from them. "What may that be? And may I ask who you two are?"

"Oh, sorry about that. I'm Ginny, and this is Draco Malfoy. We sought you out today because we need your help in settling a dispute," she explained.

He nodded at her to continue, completely mystified as to exactly how these strangers thought he could help them.

The blond man, Draco, cut in impatiently. "We don't have all day," he told Ginny before turning towards Ethan. "Were you working the bar at The Mermaid's Lounge on the evening of August 21, 1998?"

Ginny gave a start and spun to face Draco. "You remember the exact date?"

He gave her a smug smile. "Yes, unlike _some_ people, my memory is still flawless. Prepare to lose, witch."

For a moment, Ethan noted a liquid softness in Ginny's gaze before Draco's latest comment transformed it into a heated glare.

"Just because you remembered the date means nothing. Prepared to be proven wrong," she snapped. Her fiery stare right then was what finally triggered the recall.

"I remember you!" said Ethan. She was older, her face etched with more prominent laugh lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes, but she was still very much the gorgeous redhead that used to frequent the Mermaid's Lounge back when he worked there during the summer. He and the rest of the lads used to fight over the evening shift when it became clear that she was a regular patron. Not that it mattered as all of their advances had been summarily brushed off by her. "Do you remember me? I often worked during the hours when you would come by." He smiled at her fondly, reminded of those bygone, carefree summer days.

She laughed. "Who could forget such a flirt? I must admit I admired your persistence."

He flushed at the reminder of his boyhood foolishness and grinned sheepishly back at her. That was until he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Glancing back over at Draco, he felt an involuntary shiver shoot through his spine. The blond man's eyes had turned thunderous, looking as if he was prepared to _Avada Kedavra_ Ethan on the spot. No longer seated on the far end of the settee, Draco had scooted right next to Ginny and placed a possessive hand around her waist.

_Are they a couple?_ he wondered, taking note of their wedding bands. Ginny flicked her eyes down to the hand at her waist, and Ethan caught the faint smile that graced her lips but was quickly hidden when she looked back up at Draco and rolled her eyes.

"We need a memory from you, and then we'll be on our way," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Be nice, Draco," Ginny said with a warning tone.

Draco turned towards her. "I bet you like it don't you?" he hissed.

She scowled at him and made to move away, but his grip on her only tightened.

Instinct told Ethan he needed to interrupt quickly to defuse the situation. "I'd be happy to lend you a memory. Which one do you need in particular? I'm guessing it's because I witnessed something that would resolve your dispute?"

Ginny sighed. "It's actually quite ridiculous, but we need the memory of the night you saw us both at the Lounge. It was the last time I was there before I returned to England, the night when _he_," she paused to jab at Draco's side with a finger, "accosted me."

Draco winced and rubbed at the spot where he had been poked while snapping back crossly, "By which she means the night _she_ threw herself at me."

"Puh-lease, Draco. You were completely pissed by the time I walked in. I doubt you remember a thing."

"Riiight, says the witch who was tipsy and dancing on the table top."

"Why the hell are we still arguing about it? We can settle it right now like we came here to do."

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

They reminded him of petty school children, a completely incongruous image with their age and their impeccable manner of dress. Ethan couldn't hold back his snort of laughter and blurted out, "Does it really matter who approached who?"

"Yes!" said both simultaneously, turning to mutually glare at one another before facing him again.

"Can you believe I've been married to this smug git for almost two decades, and he still can't admit he was attracted to me _first_? With the way he goes on, you would think it would kill him to admit that he liked a poor, freckly Weasley even before she gave him the time of day. But oh no, he has to insist that this all started because I practically begged him to shag me. Bloody unbelievable."

"Like she's one to talk. You would think, listening to her, that I forced her into this marriage from the beginning."

"That's not what I said, and you know it." Ginny's reply had been nearly a shriek.

"You implied it regardless," said her husband in a tone like ice.

Ethan squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the barrage of personal information he shouldn't be privy to. He knew that if they weren't so upset, said information wouldn't have been shared with someone like him, who wasn't much more than a stranger.

Good Lord. It was as if they'd inadvertently designated him as a marriage counselor, someone to freely share their issues with. Clearly there was more riding on this seemingly insignificant disagreement then he had initially thought, though he wondered why they had to seek him out in the first place.

"Sorry to ask the obvious, but wouldn't either of your memories have sufficed?"

Draco remained impassive while Ginny's cheeks colored with twin spots like cherries. "Well you see," she said sheepishly, "both our memories are a bit hazy on account of the...well, I think you can understand."

Her husband snorted in response.

Ethan chuckled. "Alright then. Would you like to view it here? I can fetch a Pensieve from the study."

"No need to trouble yourself. I have one right here," said Ginny as she reached down to the mid-size handbag by her feet and procured a shallow basin of polished marble, which she then set upon the coffee table between them. It was possibly the finest Pensieve he'd ever seen in his life. Without further prompting, Ethan tapped his wand against his temple and pulled out the wispy strand of the requisite memory, which he deposited into the basin.

He watched, ever the more curious, as a strange, uneasy stillness settled over the couple. Both pairs of eyes, grey and brown, were fixated on the silvery-white mass swirling in the basin before them.

Ginny's hand had sought her husband's and was now clasping it tightly. Ethan wondered if it had even been a conscious movement on her part.

Draco turned his head towards his wife and must have seen, probably even more than Ethan did, the fear etched in her face and in the tense way she was holding herself together. The blond's eyes softened, a subtle change Ethan would have likely missed had he not been watching the two so closely.

"What happens once we find out the truth?" said Ginny, so softly Ethan had barely made out her words.

Her husband's response was immediate. "Nothing," said Draco. Ginny turned to look at him. "Absolutely nothing," he repeated, quietly but firmly. "It wouldn't change a thing. _I_ wouldn't change a thing." He hesitated before adding, "Would you?" The two words sounded as if it had pained him to speak.

She swallowed. There was a wet sheen to her eyes when she shook her head resolutely. "Me neither. Not a single thing."

For several seconds after that, the couple exchanged heated messages with their eyes, a moment so intimate, Ethan felt compelled to look away and give them their space. He would've left the room altogether if he could've been sure it wouldn't have interrupted them.

When the wet sounds of lips smacking and half-moans reached his ears, he knew they'd forgotten about him completely.

He cleared his throat loudly to remind them before sneaking a look their way. Both faces were distinctly more flushed. Ginny's in particular had taken on a brilliant tomato-shade of red, her lips stretched in an apologetic smile. Expression wise, her husband remained as impassive as ever.

He nodded at Ethan. "Thank you for your time Mr. Jenkins. Now if you'll excuse us, we have a restaurant reservation to catch."

"It's our 19th anniversary," Ginny shared with an unrestrained smile as they rose to their feet.

Ethan stood up with them. "Congratulations," he said with full sincerity. He didn't know them well , but something about them from the little bit he'd learned in these last few minutes compelled him to cheer them on. That and the fact that everyone had always said he was a bit of a romantic at heart.

"Though before you leave, aren't you going to view the memory, since you went through all that trouble in the first place?"

They looked at each other and shared a brief smile before facing him again. "It doesn't matter anymore," said Ginny.

"It never mattered in the first place," said Draco as he wrapped an arm around his wife, pulling her close. "We apologize for wasting your time Mr. Jenkins, but rest assured there will be some compensation coming your way."

"Oh it was nothing," Ethan rushed to assure them because truthfully, it had taken no effort on his part.

Since they were traveling by car, he showed the Malfoys to the front of the house and bid them goodbye. Snatches of their conversation drifted his way as they walked down to the street.

"This is the last time we're listening to your suggestions for anniversary plans. Look at all the unnecessary trouble it caused."

"I don't know about that, Draco. You were _awfully_ enthusiastic about my ideas last year."

"...Motion amended. Just stay away from the sentimental nonsense. And definitely none of this _'Oh Draco, wouldn't it be wonderful to relive our milestone memories?' _because it bloody well wasn't_._"

"I do not talk like that, ponce."

"I beg your pardon. After nineteen years of marriage and four children, I think I have definitely proven that I am _anything_ but a ponce."

"I don't know about that...I think I'll need some further proof."

"..."

"We're not going to make it to dinner are we?"

"You only have yourself to blame."

Ethan laughed before shutting the door. He knew from his own marriage that rough patches were a part of life, and undoubtedly with their volatile personalities, the Malfoys certainly hadn't seen the last of their bad days, but with the love and humor they already possessed, he was certain that there was nothing they couldn't overcome.

* * *

**Author Notes: **I would greatly appreciate feedback on this one, whether positive or if you have constructive criticism to offer, as I am looking to polish it up, so please let me know what you thought of it. :)

This was written for **scenario #3**: Your couple reminisce about something.


	4. Chapter 4: Foolish

**4. Foolish**

"Oh, Draaay-co. Where are you?"

His aunt's voice sent goose bumps pebbling up his arm. Before Draco could even rise to meet her, the library's door slammed open, and she sauntered in, twirling her wand. "Aha! There you are. The Dark Lord is asking for you." She sounded positively gleeful, which had never bode good news for anyone.

Draco swallowed and swiftly stood up from his seat. The Dark Lord was not someone you wanted to keep waiting. When he brushed by his aunt on the way out, she seized his shoulders painfully in the talons she had for hands.

"Don't you dare embarrass me," she hissed into his ear before smiling her manic grin once more and shoving him forward.

He stumbled into the corridor. Biting back a swear, Draco righted himself before striding rapidly down the hallway.

Soon, he arrived at his destination and knocked precisely three times on the enormous, ancient pair of doors that marked the entrance to the study. A chilling, sibilant voice he knew all too well permitted him to enter.

His hand shook as he reached for the cobra-shaped door handle. It hissed and snapped at him impatiently when he didn't immediately enter. _Get on with it, _he scolded himself. In his mind, he quickly ran through the motions of Occlumency to calm down and empty his thoughts, but even his best efforts couldn't clear the dread that coiled tightly in his gut.

The room Draco walked into was as frigid as an icebox despite it being the middle of summer. He bowed to the sole occupant of the room, a man who's nature was as reptilian as his features; he sucked the warmth from the very space he inhabited.

"You called for me, my Lord?" said Draco as he determinedly kept his eyes cast downwards.

"Indeed. Tell me Draco, what do you think of my administration so far?" Though the contents of the speech was conversational, Draco felt each word as a glancing blow.

"It has achieved more than we could have ever hoped for, my Lord." It took concentration to speak or else he risked the words becoming stuck in his throat.

"I'm glad to hear that. Sometimes, I get the impression that my followers aren't quite as...thrilled about my decisions. Do you think so, Draco?"

Heart racing, Draco bit his tongue to hold back from rushing to reply. That would only assuredly give him away. "To the extent of my knowledge, I have only known of enthusiastic support for our cause. The Pureblood Protection Rights was nothing we could have achieved without your guidance, my Lord."

"Yes, as it should be." He sounded amused.

Draco allowed himself a small exhale of relief, sensing the danger had passed.

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Draco?"

He tensed at the trick question and carefully replied, "I know of no wizard more powerful than you, my Lord. My family and I are honored to serve you."

The Dark Lord laughed, a hollow and mirthless sound. "You would do well to continue doing so, but I digress. I take it you are aware of the recent law that was passed?"

Draco nodded while keeping his eyes glued to the plush, crimson carpet at his feet. "Yes, my Lord."

"I hope you understand that even my followers are not exempt from the law. We all must do our part in building a better wizarding society. That's only fair, don't you think?"

Feeling an impossible weight in his head, Draco could only nod again.

"Good, very good. The parchment with the red string contains the committee's decision for you. Take it."

Slowly Draco raised his eyes from the carpet and let it traveled up the giant, mahogany desk, stopping just short of where his peripheral vision would have caught sight of the Dark Lord's robes, rising from behind the desk's polished surface. He found his parchment easily, rolled up alongside many others identical to it except for the color of the string that tied them close.

"Why so morose, Draco? This should be exciting news, should it not?" He chuckled before his voice turned sharp. "Open it."

There was nothing to do but obey. Draco picked up the rolled-up parchment with hands that didn't feel like his own. After pulling on the red string to loosen the bow, he unraveled the document and quickly scanned its contents. In shock, he read it again, but the words did not change.

"_No_." Though the word had been blurted out in a whisper, it echoed through the room and through his mind like thunder. Immediately, he clapped a hand over his mouth in disbelief of his admission, unable to comprehend how he'd managed to slip up so completely. _You bloody idiot. How could you have been so stupid?_

There was no use in back-pedaling or making up excuses. That would only make it worse for him in the end. Instead, Draco merely braced himself for the coming pain, but the Dark Lord only laughed. His amusement was the sort that had teeth. "No? You don't think your father would be pleased? Nothing personal you understand, despite the countless disappointments your family has dealt me. We all must do our part, yes?"

Even though Draco couldn't see the serpentine smile sent his way, he felt it all the same down to his bones and could only nod mutely in response.

"Be gone with you now. More information regarding your arrangement will be sent soon, and I expect your complete compliance in this and in all things to come. Do not disappoint me again. I have already been more than generous with your lot."

"Yes, my Lord," said Draco with a deep bow. In his hand, the parchment crackled when he clenched it a tad too tight.

As he turned to leave, the _Crucio_ hit him from behind.

"For your impudence," sneered the Dark Lord. The scribbling of his quill became the only other sound in the room as Draco convulsed on the carpet, biting back muffled screams of pain.

Later, Draco finally limped back to his room and collapsed onto his bed, the parchment still clasped in his fingers.

He stared at it again. "The Committee for the Betterment of Wizarding Family and Society" was emblazoned in silver ink across the top. His eyes skipped over the legal jargon that followed. The only sentence that mattered was close to the bottom, the one whose loops of black ink sealed in his future.

**After careful consideration of your profiles and much deliberation, we are happy to announce that your marriage match is:**

**Ginevra Molly Weasley.**

_Why her? Why did it have to be her?_

He knew of course. It was yet another punishment for his family's failures in the tasks that had been assigned to them. To think the Malfoys had been reduced to this. To think he'd once thought that serving the Dark Lord would be a glorious honor. But of course, these were thoughts he could only allow himself to think when he was alone in the dark of night, and even then they were cautiously whispered in his mind.

_Enough_, he told himself. It wouldn't do to be caught off guard again while his mind was wandering in such treacherous territories, so he turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

_Ginevra Molly Weasley. _The name seemed to have been branded into his head.

If it had been any other pure-blooded witch from an esteemed family, like Pansy or Daphne, his life would be, though far from ideal, at least tolerable. Said witches grew up in his world; they knew what was expected of them and accepted it willingly, if not eagerly.

But _her._ She would fight him every bit of the way, blinded to the fact that he was just as trapped as she was. There was no hope of them coming to an understanding. Instead, she would take out her hatred and resentment of the whole regime on him, blame him for everything she and her family had suffered during the war and since.

Hell, with any other witch, the worst that could happen was a sham of a marriage he could care less about. But with _her_, with her he could never be indifferent.

_Damn it. _He flung the blasted document away from him and sunk back into the bed.

It had all started in Flourish and Blotts that day when she first spoke to him, lashed out at him for stupid Potter, of all people. Her cheek, her audacity, had amused him. Right then, alarm bells should have gone off in his head, but that was the irony of it. Because he knew it could never happen, he never once worried that anything would come of it. If bemused interest turned into infatuation, he knew it would gradually die when he graduated as their paths would never regularly cross again. Not in the world that he knew and grew up in. Not when his own pride and his family's history had bolstered him to relish the roles expected of him.

In that reality, a blood traitor and a Malfoy had no future together. His musings were only a passing fancy of your average, hormonal teenage boy, but that world was gone.

Now when he looked ahead, she was by his side, living in his home and sharing his bed under the law's compulsion that they produce children to sustain the bloodlines. And all the while she would hate him, every moment, every second of every day. Even if he forbade her to hurl abuses at him, she would continue to do so silently, the lone rebellion left to her that wouldn't further harm her remaining family.

If he could be indifferent to her, then life would at least be bearable in the years ahead. They would only need to endure each other's presence for the bare minimum of time that the law required.

But it was too late. Somewhere along the way, during the handful of interactions they'd had, during the countless times he'd watched her from afar, he had stupidly, foolishly grown to care. Feelings could not be reversed and with the path dictated for them, neither would he be allowed to forget.

Had the Dark Lord somehow knew? Even more than the fact that this match would humiliate his family, had the Dark Lord somehow seen into the depths of his heart and known this would condemn the Malfoy heir to years of emotional torture?

Draco pressed his hands hard into his eyes, as if the act could erase the reality he and his own family had helped to bring about.

The old adage ran through his head. _If you play with fire_...

He should have never played, and for the foolishness of his youth, he was going to burn for the rest of his days.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

This was written for couple scenario #4: One half of your couple ponders the couple's future OR your couple discusses their future.


	5. Chapter 5: Secret

**5. Secret**

There was no place for them in this world. Not with the family ties that bound him and her own loyalties that tore at her. Not with the prejudices he held and her own immutable sense of right and wrong. This _thing_ between them could only be sustained in the dark and hidden spaces—broom closets and abandoned classrooms, shadowed alcoves and run-down shacks at Hogsmeade. They could never stay at any one place for long without risking discovery, and if they were ever found out, if what was between them was exposed to the light of day and the scrutiny of others, they knew it wouldn't hold up. It would simply buckle under the pressure and disintegrate into nothing more than slivers of memories.

They should have stopped before that first scorching gaze and burning touch were branded into their minds, before it became addictive, before lust transformed into something else altogether. But now it was too late. The only thing they could do was to postpone the inevitable future, postpone it long enough for one more kiss, one more caress, one more high before the fall.

And then one day, it was not the world that broke them up; it was her.

He'd blearily opened his eyes while she was getting dressed, and something heavy in her movements bolted him upright.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

She looked back at him with a disdainful arch of an eyebrow, a gesture she'd learned and perfected from him. _What do you think I'm doing? Don't be stupid_, her eyebrow said. But her eyes were wide and sorrowful.

When she came back around his side for her skirt, he grabbed her wrist. "Stay," he commanded; at least he meant to. The word had sounded unbearably strained to his ears.

She shook her head, but leaned in to kiss him, her free hand coming up to cup his cheek. He melted into her touch, tongue delving into her mouth to taste her again. She was strawberry and honey and mint. She was the sinful decadence of forbidden things and—and something else. Something he wasn't willing to name.

His hand delved into her hair to grip her head while his other hand released her wrist to curve around her bottom, pulling her to him. He tugged her back onto the bed but she resisted, pulling her lips away with the force of a seal being torn open.

Her wide eyes seemed startled, but then they hardened with some resolution he knew he wouldn't like. He willed her to stay but was too prideful to ask a second time.

"I have to go," she said and kissed him again. This time it was swift and chaste and cold. "Goodbye, Draco." The warm hand that lingered on his cheek, even as she pulled away, softened her departure.

He didn't realize until two weeks later that her goodbye was a final one.

Even when this whole thing between them had been going on, their eyes never met in the hallways. They never exchanged a word when others were around, and only occasionally an insult when she would get caught up in his spats with her brother and Potter. At those times, he had to include her in his taunts so that people didn't get suspicious.

He didn't know that things had changed until three owls went unanswered. Incensed, he sent off a final missive, but his ultimatum to her fell flat. He spent two angry hours waiting for her in the Astronomy Tower as the moon sat fat in the sky, but she never came. In the early hours of the morning, he staggered back to his Head Boy chambers like a drunken man and collapsed into his bed. There was a tightness to his eyes and a burning sensation behind his closed lids that he hadn't felt since he was a child. Consequently, he drugged himself with his stash of Dreamless Sleeping Draughts to forestall the inevitable conclusion.

By breakfast the next day, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the best, and it wasn't as if his life would drastically change. She'd been only a small part of it after all, having only existed in the stolen hours.

A week passed, and life went on as usual. If he threw himself more rigorously into his studies, no one was the wiser with N.E.W.T.S. on the way. Neither did he went out of his way to pay her back. He couldn't stand for her to know he'd cared in any way. No, cold indifference was the only thing she deserved.

But a month later his conviction fell apart, and it wasn't triggered by something so trite and soppy as a laugh overheard, an accidental eye-contact, or a smile seen from a far. No, those things would've only made him turn away and hate her all the more.

Instead, it was at the end of a Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match. His eyes sought out the victorious Gryffindors with only hatred for their captain. He hadn't meant to find her, but there she was in his field of vision with Potter's disgusting arm slung around her shoulders. She was smiling, but her eyes told him everything.

How fitting it was, considering how the thing between them got started at all. The first dark and hidden place that brought them together had been the one in her heart. None of her friends or family in their naivety saw it, but he did, from the moment he watched her stare blankly across the lake. Intrigued, he'd reached out to the Gryffindor princess in jest and was unexpectedly pulled ever deeper into her abyss. But with him there, she was not alone.

Now though, as they had each retreated back into their own world, he saw plain as day that she was unhappy once again. For him, right then, that was reason enough. On his broom, he swooped over the red and gold mob and dropped down right in front of her. Her mouth gaped open in a perfect 'O' before he covered it with his own lips while forcefully pushing off Potter's arm to replace it with his own. He assumed shouts of outrage and shock must have broken out over the crowd, but he couldn't hear them. His world had narrowed to the girl in his arms, to the frantic mutual beating of their hearts, to the gasping of their shared breaths.

It was worth it even when he was wrenched back from her, and her troll of a brother clobbered him across the nose. Worth it even as he felt the warm blood gush over his mouth because she threw her body across his and shrieked fiercely in his defense. A hex intended for him hit her instead, and he saw red, reaching for his wand before her hand stilled him and her lips descended in a butterfly's caress on the corner of his mouth. Madam Hooch was on them in the next second, handing out detentions to his assailants while instructing Ginny to see him to the hospital wing. He smirked at the livid faces of Potter and her brother and made an excessive show of wrapping his arms around Ginny before striding off the field. Potter could have his stupid snitch. Draco would have readily traded a thousand of them for this very moment.

As Madam Pomfrey treated him for a broken nose, he kept his eyes glued on Ginny, watching her with a knowing grin as she looked everywhere but at him, as her fingers gripped and twisted her robes, as sweat broke across her brow. When the doors to the hospital wing closed with a solemn thud behind them, she burst with everything that had gone on unsaid. Apologies and confessions and explanations tumbled over one another out of her mouth until they ended in tears. He opted for a less dramatic and infinitely more satisfying response by kissing the breath out of her.

He knew with certainty then. There was no place for them in this world, but they would make their own. All they needed was each other along with a bit of courage, a bit of give-and-take, and any place could become theirs.

* * *

**Author Notes:** Do let me know what you thought of it. This was written for Scenario #5: Your couple finds a place that becomes 'their place'.


	6. Chapter 6: Disaster

**6. Disaster**

She would need time to get over it, he knew that, but after his third owl returned with its delivery unopened, Draco had had enough. Braving her ire, he stormed her flat. When furious poundings and bell-ringing yielded no response, and unlocking spells also proved ineffective, he settled for simply blasting the door open.

The state of her flat confirmed his worst suspicions. Empty ice-cream cartons and candy wrappers littered the coffee table. Dishes were piled nearly ceiling-high in the sink. A putrid stench of God-knows-what assaulted his nose. Even more troubling were the photo frames turned to face the wall or planted face down.

Where the hell was that meddling, overprotective family of hers? And the troll of a boyfriend the idiot persisted in seeing? They should have been here all along putting a stop to this. Bloody useless the whole lot of them.

He certainly wasn't going to stand for it. She would be stubborn he knew, but it was nothing he couldn't match.

With several disdainful swishes of his wand, Draco cleared out the trash and set the dishes to wash themselves, muttering resentfully all the while, "Can't believe I'm doing this. I'm not a bloody house elf."

He then stalked to her bedroom door which was predictably close and locked. This time his knocking was met with a colorful string of words followed by her angry screaming. "For the love of—get it through your head, Harry. We're done. _Over. _Just leave me alone!"

He froze. His heart thudded in his chest. He could have sworn this wasn't a dream. With an _Alohomora_, the door cracked open, and he pushed it the rest of the way. The round lump under the covers and a sliver of red hair was all he could see of her.

He leaned against the doorframe and schooled his features to appear the definition of nonchalance before drawling in his most exaggerated manner, "It's three o'clock in the afternoon. Pray tell, Weasley, what the hell are you still doing in bed?"

"Malfoy?" Bolting upright, she stared at him with unrestrained shock. Dark circles shadowed her eyes which were in turn red-rimmed. Within him, something clenched almost painfully at the sight, but he knew he would have to play it cool to get her out of this slump.

He arched an eyebrow, knowing the gesture could usually be depended on to irritate her. "Who else would I be? I can see that thinking is not your strong point in the mornings, or afternoon as it were."

Her mouth did the perfect imitation of a fish out of water, gasping for air. "What the—How? Why?" She let out a half-strangled cry and chucked a pillow at him, which he dodged with practiced ease. "Forget it. I don't even want to know. Just go away. I don't have the energy to deal with you right now." She burrowed herself back under the covers.

He marched closer and tore the beddings away from her body, yanking it off the bed altogether. In an instant, he regretted the act when it revealed her to be wearing only a T-shirt that fell just short of mid-thigh.

_Sweet Salazar. _His eyes weren't able to linger on the milky expanse of her legs for long because in the next second, she clobbered him with another pillow.

"You. Are. An. Absolute. Wanker," she spat out, timing each word with her blows. "I already know it's hideous. You don't need to rub it in my face, prick."

"That—Oomph." Another mouthful of stuffed cotton filled his mouth. He had to grip her pillow and tug it away from her hands to get a word in.

"First off, I never said nor implied that I thought it was hideous. Secondly, stop being so dramatic. I thought you were fond of scars." He sounded a bit more bitter than he would have liked.

She glared at him. "Don't project your scar-envy onto me, Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? If it's just to bother me, then you need to get off that lazy, entitled arse of yours, and get a frigging life."

Good. At least she was reacting to him. "And you need to get off your self-pitying one. How long has it been since you left the house?"

She shifted her eyes to avoid his gaze. It was as he'd expected.

He sighed. "You act as if it's the end of the world."

Her eyes snapped angrily back to his. "It might as well have been! What did you think, Malfoy? Not only did my tumble cost England the world championship, but I'm also never going to play Quidditch again. That _was _my life, you idiot. Then the man I'd loved since forever proved once and for all that he cared diddly squat about me. 'It'll be all right, Gin,' he said. 'It was about the time you were going to settle down anyway so that we can start a family.' Him. It had always been about him, but I had been too stupid to see it."

Her voice had taken on an unmistakable hitch. _Shite. Please don't cry. _He was mortified to find that this revelation of hers hardly lifted his own mood, not when its reality made her so obviously miserable. It was enough, well _almost_ enough, for him to wish Potter had been a better man for her.

"Now on top of being hideously scarred and having a permanent limp, my family is driving me crazy treating me like fragile glass. I can't stand it anymore." She covered her face with both hands and muttered, seemingly more to herself than towards him, "Why am I even telling you this? Just goes to show how rock bottom I've hit."

That she thought so little of him hurt in a way he would never let her know. He leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled her hands back from her face. With a firm hand, he gripped her chin and tilted her face upwards, forcing her to look at him. "If you don't want the pity of others, then stop acting so pitiful. You're a fighter, Weasley. So what if you had one nasty tumble? You're still that woman who took a Bludger to the chest but turned around and scored the winning goal in the semifinals, the one who easily outmaneuvers and outflies just about everyone else in the League and in her spare time takes down grown wizards twice her size. This incident will change you only so much as you _let_ it. Now get out of this bed and into the shower. You reek, and I can't have my reputation ruined when I take you out to dinner."

She stared at him, mouth opened in disbelief. "Only _you_ would manage to compliment and insult me in the same breath. Your reputation is safe. Why would I even want to go?"

"I'm not asking. I'm taking you either way. Shower. Now. Or I'll be forced to take matters into my own hands." _Shite. That didn't sound quite right. _Unexpectedly, her freckled cheeks blushed in response. _Oh hell._ Flushed cheeks had no business looking so exceedingly attractive.

She cast her eyes downwards, but after several beats of silence, she looked back up at him. "Malfoy?"

_Oh gods._ It was that gaze again—wide eyed and vulnerable, the one that might just convince him to hand her the world if she only asked for it. Outwardly, his expression remained impassive but for the raise of a single inquiring eyebrow.

She hesitated, but then pushed on. "I can't trust my family or friends, but I know you'd never sugarcoat it. Tell me the truth, how does it really look?" She gestured towards her leg.

His eyes followed the line of her arm down the tip of her finger to the zigzag of raw, newly healed flesh. It ran from mid-thigh down to just short of her ankles, shiny and pink among the rest of her pale, freckled flesh and stood out as a slight ridge from the rest of her skin. Even now, a month and a half since the accident and two weeks since her final discharge from Mungo's, his hands grew clammy and his stomach sunk at the memory of her fall.

A freak fog had appeared just seconds prior to the incident, obscuring the players from sight. Her piercing scream and his utter helplessness in that moment continued to haunt his nightmares. There had been talks of sabotage, and while official investigations had yielded nothing substantial enough to go on, Draco had hired a personal team to continue looking into it. If a culprit was ever found, he would have hell to pay.

The weeks that followed, filled with botched operations and every imaginable complication, became the most harrowing experience of Draco's life even after everything that had gone on in the war. But in a twisted way, the whole ordeal shattered the lies he'd built to protect himself, forcing him to accept without any pretense that, for better or for worse, he couldn't bear to not have the feisty redhead in his life, whether merely as a friend or—or something more. Even with Potter temporarily out of the picture, he could scarcely dare to hope.

He looked back up at her, but she had her eyes downcast again, fingers picking distractedly at the bed sheet. For all her bravado, he had come to learn in glimpses here and there that much of her brazen confidence masked insecurities that she had never really gotten over since those early years at Hogwarts. That something inside him clenched even tighter. How had a proud Malfoy been reduced to this? Worse of all, the fact hardly even bothered him anymore.

Without thinking too much about it, he sat down on the bed and reached out with his fingers to softly trace the path of the scar. Her skin shivered under his touch. When his hand came to rest around her ankle, he glanced back up. She was staring at him, bewilderment and uncertainty flitting through her eyes, the blush renewed on her cheeks.

He smirked at her, and told her the truth. "I think it's wicked. Just like you. Except you have everyone else completely fooled. It was about time some of that showed on you."

She smacked his arm, but a thrill shot through him at the sight of the smile she was trying and spectacularly failing to suppress. She scooted closer towards his side of the bed before swinging her legs over and standing up. Then suddenly, her arms were around his neck, her soft body pressed against his side.

His nose was thrust into her shoulder in the unexpected hug. Despite her pungent, sour smell of old sweat from who knows how many days of not bathing, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her even closer. The nearness of her was overwhelming and not nearly enough.

Just as abruptly she sprang back, a mortified expression on her face. Inwardly, he swore heatedly at himself, but Merlin, how had she expected him to react? He hadn't even _done_ anything, honestly.

To his relief, her concern soon proved to be about something else altogether. "Oh God. I'm so embarrassed. I must stink something terrible. I j-just wanted to thank you. You're being awfully...I don't know. It's strange coming from you, but then again, I guess for this past year you've actually been—gah. Shut up brain."

She was unbelievably flustered, adorably so. _Adorable? A Weasley?_ But really he should just stop being surprised. He'd known he'd flown off the deep end weeks ago.

Without another word, she raced out of the bedroom. A few minutes later, the sound of running water could be heard. While she showered, he wiled away the time putting the rest of her flat back into order. When she finally reappeared, he was laying across her bed reading the latest Quidditch Quarterly. The magazine and all else were quickly forgotten at the sight of a wet, towel-clad Ginny Weasley blushing furiously in the doorway. It took several seconds for even a single coherent thought to form in his mind, and the first was this: _He, Draco Malfoy, was irretrievably, irrefutably doomed, and he didn't even mind._

* * *

**Author Notes: **Reviews would totally make my day. Please let me know what your thoughts are on these one-shots._  
_

This was written for scenario #6: Something bad happens to one half of your couple, the other half attempts to help.


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